Love Me If You Must

5

I crouched against the wall of the cistern in a near fetal position.

“You okay?” Lloyd shook my shoulder. My temple bounced against the same sharp rock that had nailed my knee.

I swatted at his hand. “How can I be okay? There’s a corpse in my cistern.”

I breathed. In. Out. In. Out.

Why my basement? Why couldn’t they have buried the body in somebody else’s basement? No wonder I’d gotten such a deal on the home. I was living on top of a cemetery.

Lloyd scratched his head. “I kind of figured you bumped your knee when you let out that scream. I didn’t realize you’d hit your head.” He turned to the gaping men beside him. “Dial 9-1-1, Josh. I think she’s got a concussion.”

His red-haired assistant flipped open his phone and dialed.

I lifted my arm to wave off the call, but the kid was already giving the address.

“I don’t have a concussion,” I said. “Just tell them to bring a jackhammer and a body bag.”

I leaned my forehead against the knee that wasn’t throbbing. Like I really needed to start my life in Rawlings exhuming someone’s cast-off relative from the nether regions of my home. If wind of this got around, I’d have a devil of a time trying to sell the place.

Whiner, I chastised. Go ahead and fling a body at me. I’d handle it, and even make it to my advantage somehow.

I looked up. The kid had ended the call. The trio stared down at me. The looks on their faces reflected the same shock and outrage that I’d felt moments earlier. As well they should. Rick Hershel had a bunch of explaining to do. How dare he not mention the body on the seller’s disclosure?

I slapped a hand to my mouth. “Oh, my word.”

The men lunged back as if afraid I’d vomit.

Could the body be Jan’s? Would Rick have buried his own wife in the basement? Jan hadn’t been available for the closing, after all. And the concrete at the bottom of the cistern was of fairly recent vintage. Probably poured when the rest of the waterproofing had been done a year ago, or maybe even after. Who knew how long Jan had been missing?

Rick had certainly had the opportunity.

I hated to think about it. The guy had seemed scruffy, but nice. And so lost without his wife. The split had definitely been her idea, not his.

Perhaps theirs had been, like Heathcliff and Cathy’s, a case of obsessive love. That would qualify as a common enough motive for murder, even in this modern day and age.

I dusted grime from the floor off my hands. You just couldn’t tell by looking at people if the heart of a killer beat in their breast.

Poor Jan.

I held out an arm to the contractor. “Would you mind? My knee feels like its ready to burst.”

He reached down and pulled me to my feet.

“What a mess.” I shook my head and leaned against the wall of the cistern. Even through the stones, I could feel the pull of the soul resting there. Thank goodness Lloyd and sons were standing in the vicinity. Otherwise, I’d be catatonic from fear. I rubbed my forehead. Where would I sleep until they got this thing out from under me?

A pounding came from upstairs. The kitchen door squeaked as someone entered.

“Hello?” A male voice dropped down the open stairwell.

Seconds later, the stairs shook with the weight of uniformed figures coming to my rescue.

The first to descend was Officer Brad Walters.

I brushed my bangs to one side. He was definitely within fifty feet of me.

No biggie. I was an expert at eating crow. “I guess since we dialed 9-1-1, I can’t threaten you with that restraining order, huh?”

Brad’s eyes settled on me. Behind his mask of professionalism peeped a flicker of concern. “What seems to be the problem?”

Lloyd the Elder piped up. “She was poking around in the cistern and must have bumped her head or something. She’s all . . . ,” he held one hand suspended while he searched for the word, “. . . delusional.”

“Delusional?” My voice arced up an octave. “Wouldn’t you scream if you had a body in your cellar?”

I gulped for air. Stay calm, Tish. I didn’t need another scene with Officer Walters present.

I wilted. My already bad day had taken a turn for the worse.

Brad glanced at the woman carrying a metal case. “Let’s get some help here.”

The paramedic flipped open the lid and dug around inside. She pulled out a blood pressure cuff. The ripping of Velcro filled the uncomfortable silence.

“I’m fine,” I said. “I think you’re a little too late for the person who really needs you.” I jerked my head toward the cistern.

The woman continued, undeterred. She pumped the bulb, and the cuff tightened around my upper arm. Brad stood next to Lloyd. They whispered together. Lloyd did a lot of pointing. Then he got out his flashlight and the two men, tall enough to avoid a climb, peered over the ledge into the cistern.

I strained to hear their voices over the hissing of air as the cuff loosened. Brad’s face was expressionless. No clues there. I had to hand it to him. He had a heart of stone when it came to murder scenes. Of course, Lloyd had been unaffected by the incident as well.

The paramedic flashed a blinding light into my pupils. I winced. Just because the men could remain calm in the face of dead bodies did not mean that my reaction had been unwarranted. Any normal person would have screamed her head off.

I remembered the image in the concrete, the mouth open in that eerie cry for help, the hands pushing away an attacker. One missing shoe.

Another shiver struck. The poor dear hadn’t died graciously. But then, when was death pretty?

I tuned in on the conversation at the cistern.

“I don’t see any reason to investigate. We haven’t had any missing persons reports. Must have been just a trick of the light.” Brad caught my eye at the last statement.

Unable to quash the squeal of outrage begging for release, I at least managed to downgrade it to a huff of indignation. “Not investigate? You’re just going to let a killer run free?”

Brad placed his hands gently on my shoulders. “Miss Amble, there’s no evidence of foul play. I don’t know what you think you saw, but at this point, I’m going to decline investigating for lack of concrete evidence.”

I searched his face. He was serious. He planned to drop the whole thing. I flicked his hands away. “The concrete is the evidence. Don’t you see the outline of the body? It’s so clear . . .”

I snatched the flashlight out of Lloyd’s hand and climbed my way up the wall, not caring what appendage suffered for it. I shone the light on the lumpy white floor. Whoever had filled the cistern had done a poor job smoothing the surface, considering what lay beneath. I angled the flashlight, searching for the pattern that had so distinctly emerged when last I looked.

“It was here,” I said in a half whisper. “The mouth and hands, and the feet. I’m just looking at it wrong.” I scooted along the wall to my previous observation point. “There. Right there.”

I pointed to a series of dips and ridges that now only somewhat resembled a mouth and hands. I shifted the flashlight again. The pattern completely disappeared. Had it really been just a trick of the light?

“You know, my wife’s like that,” Lloyd said. “She can look at the clouds and see just about anything. She can even make sense out of all those Greek constellations. She’d probably look in there and see two or three bodies.” He chuckled.

I clicked off the flashlight and set my feet back on the ancient basement floor. I slumped one shoulder against the cistern.

No body. That was good. I didn’t have to find alternate lodging. I could go forward with the project without delay. I wouldn’t have to contend with crime stories when I went to sell the house. One less thing to clutter my mind.

I watched Brad scribble a report in his notebook. Even the police officer wasn’t concerned about a body.

I passed the flashlight back to Lloyd. “I think there’s something wrong with this thing. Time for a new bulb.” I turned to the paramedic. “Sorry to trouble you. I’m fine. Really.”

Before leaving, the woman gave me a rundown of symptoms that would prompt a visit to the emergency room. “And it wouldn’t hurt to see your doctor. You don’t want to mess with head injuries.”

I didn’t bother to correct her. I turned to Brad.

“Officer Walters.” I crossed my arms.

“Miss Amble.” Brad gave a terse nod.

I loosened my guard. I might not like the man’s invasion into my privacy, but that didn’t mean I had to treat him like mold on my tub.

“Tish,” I said. “Go ahead and call me Tish. We’re neighbors, aren’t we?”

“Tish.” He said my name slowly, as if trying it out for the first time. He nodded his approval.

I cleared my throat. “Thanks for looking in.”

“Anytime you need me.” He tipped his cap and left.

“Well.” I relaxed my arms and turned to Lloyd. “I guess that about covers it for the basement today. Work on getting that permit so we can get rid of that cistern once and for all.”

“Come on, boys.” Lloyd bolted upstairs, cohorts close on his heels.

“See you tomorrow!” I called after them.

I stood alone in the basement. I’d grown accustomed to its dank odor in the past hour, but with all distraction gone, my nose once again detected the smell. And it was colder now that I wasn’t moving around. I rubbed my arms and turned in a slow circle. The plans I’d discussed with the builders flipped through my mind. Mechanical room, clean storage, open area, get rid of the cistern . . .

I stared at the crescent of rock. I hadn’t given it a moment’s notice on my first tour of the place several months ago. I hadn’t even looked inside. It was just a detail to handle.

But now it radiated energy.

A big pile of rocks. That’s all it was, hiding in the black shadows behind the steps. A big, empty pile of rocks.

Look, Tish, look inside me, it called.

I had already looked. And while my imagination had been in overdrive at first, there hadn’t been anything to see the second time. There was no body in my cistern. No ghosts in my house.

Just me. Alone. And it wasn’t likely to change anytime soon, so I might as well adjust.

I dared myself to hold my ground, resisting the urge to run, denying the fear that pulled at me with tangible fingers. The clammy silence crashed in my ears.

Behind me, the furnace kicked on.

I screamed and scrambled upstairs.

I slammed the door to the basement and fumbled with the bolt. I wasn’t taking my chances. Body or not, this was one door that would stay locked.